


Templars Roll Out

by Starla-Nell (Princess_Nell)



Series: The Bournshire Boys [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fear and Sacrifice, Slice of Life, Young Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6983950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Nell/pseuds/Starla-Nell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A panicked villager enters the Chantry. </p><p>Rosalie (and Branson) want to watch the Templars fight for real. </p><p>Cullen "just happens to overhear" exactly what a Templar must sacrifice to be a Templar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Templars Roll Out

**Author's Note:**

> Please read Long Live Spot for more context.

The Chantry was nearly empty. A young woman had come in to deliver her family’s modest donations, and she had brought her siblings. The Rutherford family, judging by their curly, sun-blond hair, controlled only by the frizzy braids they all wore. Was Mia already old enough to watch the younger three? Tithe delivered, Mia lit a solemn candle at the shrine as the youngest sister begged to go watch the templars practice. Sister Lewella, in charge of this small Chantry (for what it was worth), pretended to read the tome before her. In reality, she was amusing herself listening to the ensuing negotiations. 

The sound of the door echoed in the wooden chantry, interrupting a remarkably well-developed argument (for his age) from the younger of the two brothers. Sister Lewella looked up as a panicked-looking man shouted, “Ser Gethin, Ser Keelin, come quick!” 

Sister Lewella stood. “They’re out back. What is it Drust? Tell me quickly.” 

Drust was gasping air between words. “Undead,” (gasp) “Sister,” (gasp) “attacking” (gasp) “villagers.” 

“What?!” Lewella stepped from behind her table, heading for the back door. “How?” They burned all their dead, partly for this reason. 

Drust stumbled to catch up with Lewella, breath nearly caught now. “Mage,” he explained, ignoring the siblings that had so amused her a moment before. “Young one. Not in robes.” 

“But what dead could a young mage get hold of?” Just last year, they’d discovered an ancient burial site – probably Elven – and burned those bodies, too. Was there another? 

“Cat.” Lewella stopped, holding the back door open. She turned to look at him, incredulous. One of the nearly-forgotten kids giggled. But Drust was insistent. “A dead cat. The market’s in an uproar.” 

The clang of practice swords on armor rang into the Chantry as Sister Lewella’s eyes narrowed. “And where is the mage now?” This kid could have cast a fireball or a blizzard into the market. An undead cat, on the other hand, was lowest on the range of possible damage. The greatest threat might be to the mage. 

“He ran south. He could be meeting up with comrades, getting reinforcements. The villagers are prepared to help, but we need the Templars!” 

And thank Andraste for that, the sister thought. “I suppose we must be prepared for anything. Including, Drust, the possibility this was all a misunderstanding.” Sister Lewella turned and took a few steps to call to the fully-armored warriors on the small practice ground. 

“Gethin! Keelin! We have young mage loose. Let’s bring him home.” 

The templars stopped their drills, removed their helmets, and chorused, “Yes, Sister!” Such good boys. This would be sorted out soon. 

\---

As the back door to the training ground boomed closed, the older boy, Cullen, noticed the front door open and Partha enter anxiously. Cullen wondered how Ori’s mom knew to come here. It had been over a year, but still Cullen blushed to think of how he had treated Ori. Had he made up for it yet? Ori had accepted his apology, and Cullen hadn’t teased him since. Perhaps he should include Ori more often? His dad was one of the knights – Ser Keelin? – yes, that must be it. Cullen realized that, if the whole market was really in an uproar, Partha might have spotted Drust heading for the Chantry from her hut. Now she caught Drust by the elbow and began questioning him in a low, insistent voice. 

“No, Rosalie,” chided Mia, distracting Cullen, “we are definitely not going to watch the Templars fight for real.” Cullen smiled. 

“Yeah, Rosalie,” taunted Branson. “It could be dangerous for little kids.” 

Before Rosalie could take this bait, though, Mia conceded Rosalie’s core request. “However,” and here she shot a look at Branson intended to maim, “we don’t have to meet mom and dad in the Market yet. You can stay here and look at the carvings.” 

“Ooo! Can I look at the ones up there?” she asked, pointing to the main alter. 

“Pushing your luck a bit, aren’t you?” Cullen found himself commenting wryly. 

“Please?” Those darn eyelashes. They turned any request into please-don’t-kick-my-puppy. Not that Rosalie had a puppy. 

“Well,” Mia appeared to consider, “you can look at them now, but then we’ll sit on the pew and look at the banners.” 

Rosalie clapped her hands, thinking she’d won, but Cullen realized that this move would satisfy her while giving Mia a way to rein her in, should people flock to the Chantry for shelter from mages. Well played. 

Ser Keelin and Ser Gethin entered the main sanctuary just as Rosalie was dancing over to trace her fingers in the alter’s polished wood carvings. Partha, normally so friendly, walked a straight line from Drust to her husband and nearly ran over Rosalie. Their conversation began quietly, but soon Cullen could hear plainly. 

“The undead, Keelin. You can’t go. You have a little boy.” Not that little. Ori was about a year younger than Cullen. Was Ori’s birthday before or after his? 

“What should I do, Partha? Let Gethin go alone? He has one on the way. Anyway, that’s beside the point. It is my duty.” 

“Keelin…” 

“Partha. I love you deeply. But you always knew that my duty would come first. Do not do this. You know that I cannot choose.” 

“I’m just so worried. I don’t want to imagine… if you didn’t come home.” 

“You know I’ll do everything I can, but I just can’t be sure.” 

“Lie to me then,” Partha insisted. “It’s your duty to me to make me feel better, so I can stand the wait for you to come home.” 

“Very well. I assure you, I will be appearing over that horizon before you know it.” Ser Keelin kissed her on the forehead. 

“Good. I’m holding you to that.” 

Ser Keelin hugged Partha as well as his bulky leather armor would allow him to. He caught sight of Cullen over her shoulder, watching them, and the young boy had the good grace to look embarrassed. Ser Keelin let it pass. Cullen had turned 10 years old this year: double digits. He was trying to figure out what he would do with his life when he became an adult. Keelin smiled sadly and winked at Cullen. 

Truth be told, until that moment, Cullen only thought of magic and mages in an abstract way. Even the discussion between Drust and Sister Lewella didn’t seem real; it was like watching a play. Ser Keelin had winked at him and suddenly, Cullen saw what Partha saw. He might never see Ser Keelin again. Before, that had seemed impossible, too. Ser Keelin had always been based at the Honnleath Chantry. How would Ori react if his father never returned? How would that affect Rosalie, and Cullen? Ser Keelin was willing to risk this, to protect others from a danger no-one else could handle. He was truly doing the most good with the life the Maker had given him, just like Sister Lewella said every Chant. He had sacrificed his own safety for the safety of others. 

Cullen felt a burning need to understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Young Alistair helps Owain make an important decision.


End file.
